A Shoulder to Cry On
by neeny16
Summary: Arthur Weasley has always been a tower of strength to the rest of his family, but when he disappears on the evening after Fred's funeral, Harry wonders: who is Arthur's shoulder to cry on? One - shot. No slash!


Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Fred's funeral had been one of the hardest that he'd had to attend. None of the Weasleys had been able to contain their grief during the service or gathering afterwards. Well, except Arthur. But Harry knew the family so well by now that he could see that he was just putting on a brave face for Mrs Weasley, whose tears had not stopped since breakfast. Barely a word had been spoken by anyone all day; no one had been capable of exchanging pleasantries during the gathering and that hadn't changed since their return to The Burrow. The only sounds that broke the stifling silence were the occasional sniffs as sadness overwhelmed them. Looking up for the first time in over an hour, Harry felt his heart clench in sympathy: Bill was clutching Fleur tightly to his chest, though judging by the stricken expression on his face, more for his benefit than hers; Charlie was holding Ginny, his head resting on hers, tears running down his face. Ginny was so still she might have been asleep, had it not been for the small circular motion her thumb was making on the back of Charlie's hand, the only sign that she realised that it was his tears soaking through her hair. Ron and Hermione were sitting opposite him, gripping each other's hands like lifelines, faces streaked with tears. Percy had his arms wrapped around Molly, her face pressed into his shoulder, her body wracked with sobs. Percy's face was stern, his own eyes bright with tears behind his glasses. George was missing from the room but that was hardly surprising; Fred had been his other half, losing him must have been like losing a body part. He had disappeared up to his old room as soon as his feet had touched the garden. No one had tried to follow him, all unanimous in the decision that he needed to be alone.

About to drop his head again, Harry froze as a sudden thought occurred to him: where was Arthur? He was so easy to miss in the crowd of freckles and red hair that was the Weasley clan. His quietness and easy going nature often rendered him invisible as he sat back, somehow removed from the frantic rush that the rest of his family made up, so it was almost excusable that Harry had missed the fact that at some point in the afternoon, Arthur had left the room. As soon as he realised this, Harry began to feel uneasy. Arthur had been a tower of strength for everyone during the fallout from the war and Harry had never seen him being anything but calm, composed and strong. So caught up in his own grief, Harry had never stopped to consider whether anyone was making sure that Arthur has someone to talk to or a shoulder to cry on if he needed it. These thoughts propelled him up off the battered couch and into the kitchen where he stood blinking foolishly for a moment, so sure was he that that was where he would find the patriarch. Not sure where to look next, he stared without seeing through the windows over the sink before realising that the answer was staring him in the face; a light was shining from the shed windows. Resolve firmly set, Harry left the house and set off down the path, pausing for a moment before knocking at the door. There was no answer, but when he turned the handle the door opened so he stepped in and quietly closed it behind him.

Arthur was sat with his back to the door at one of the many desks that filled the room, its surface littered with all imaginable muggle things. In his hands was what Harry recognised to be a plug.

"Fred was always interested in how things worked," Arthur's voice broke the silence, making Harry jump slightly. "I think that's why he was so good at making things." He continued, staring down at the plug, turning it over and over in his hands. Deciding to risk being pushed away, Harry approached him and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, relieved when the older man only gripped it with his own hand.

"I never thought I'd be here," Arthur said his voice shaking slightly "That I'd have to bury my own _son_." His voice broke and he turned face Harry, his expression one of raw grief.

"Why him?" he asked "Why did it have to be Fred?" his voice had a hysterical edge to it now, "It should've been _me. _Why couldn't I protect my own son? _**Why?**_" he shouted the last word angrily, then his face crumpled and his shoulders slumped "Why?" he whispered. Harry wrapped his arms around Arthur, feeling the man's arms going around his waist and the tears soaking into his shirt.

"Oh Harry," he sobbed "What am I going to do without him?" Harry just tightened his grip and let Arthur cry into his chest, rubbing his back soothingly. Eventually, the sobs slowed and then stopped, but Arthur kept his hold on Harry, his breaths shaky. Slowly, he let go and sat back in his chair, wiping the lingering tears away with his palms. At last he looked up, his eyes red and puffy, face pale and spoke.

"Sorry about that." He said hoarsely, then clearing his throat "Was-was there something you needed? Before I fell apart in you I mean. I expect Molly missed me?" he continued, standing up.

"No Arthur" Harry replied "I came here because I was worried. I wanted to tell you that if _you_ ever needed a shoulder to cry on, then I would be here for you." Arthur's eyes filled with tears again as he drew the younger man into his arms.

"Thank you Harry," he said, voice muffled "Thank you so much."

From that moment on, Arthur Weasley knew that although he had lost one son, he had gained another.

The End


End file.
